


Be Careful What You Wish For

by outofcoffee24



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: the dark knight
Genre: Abusive ex mentions, Angst, College student OC, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Joker is intrigued, PTSD, Sarcasm, Violence, character growth and overcoming fear, mentions of past sexual abuse, sexual healing, snarky oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofcoffee24/pseuds/outofcoffee24
Summary: You know, when I said I’d rather die than take my exam….I didn’t mean for the Joker to break into my apartment. (TDK Joker x college student OC)
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Dinner Party for Two

**Author's Note:**

> a personalized spin on my take of what could have happened if a lost girl trying to erase her trauma got thrown into the whirlwind that is the joker.

Stress was inevitable.

It was everywhere in life. Between friends, family, work, etc. A natural element to our daily lives, serving as the catalyst that pushed the evolution of species forward. As my freshmen biology professor loved to say, “stress is a necessity to the progression of our survival”.

But stress had a limit. And after running on 3 hrs of sleep to survive the past 72 hrs, I was finally reaching mine.

I guess that’s why the department requires lengthy paperwork and interviews before granting excess credits per semester. A double check of “are you absolutely sure you want to exceed the full credit maximum?” to which I had naively ignored.

There was a time when I had excelled in school. Had taken great pride in absorbing as much information as possible. A time when academics was my safe haven. But that was all before _him._

Now my daily walk to campus was plagued with memories of his presence. How I had frantically avoided him at all costs. _He_ made it difficult. Cornering me at our-- _no my_ usual study spots. Making sure his friends kept an eye on me even after everything. I didn’t realize the desperate need to escape him transpired into me never leaving my apartment until it was too late. My grades slipped considerably from the lack of attendance, and my social life, as fragile as it had been to begin with, became practically nonexistent. After 2 years of torment and failed classes later, he finally graduated. I was free of his physical presence.

Despite that, the trauma he inflicted on me never seemed to leave. _If only that could take a one-way ticket to Texas._

But that didn’t matter. It couldn’t. Any chance of me getting through this semester without sinking into a bout of depression meant I had to force all those thoughts away. Pretend it never happened and move forward.

_Yeah, like that has been working._

Immersed in my thoughts, I barely heard my professor calling on me.

 _Crap._ I looked from the scribbles and doodles I mindlessly wrote throughout the lecture (damn my shitty coping mechanisms!), and frantically read the lecture slide.

It was a structure with no verbal aids. _Of course._

“Umm...I’m sorry what was the question?” I responded lamley. My cheeks flushed as I heard quiet chuckles from my peers.

Professor Turkin sighed in annoyance. “I asked if you could explain this mechanism. If you read the assigned reading, you should be able to explain it,” he added in smug arrogance only teachers got away with.

_Thank the heavens I did read the chapter before class._

“Uh, yeah I can. It’s because the Ras protein gets activated by the replacement of GDP to GTP, activating it and causing cell proliferation,” I explained in more confidence than I felt all week.

“And the reason why it becomes cancerous is because the Ras-GAP complex becomes inhibited and doesn’t allow for hydrolyzation of GTP back to GDP. Forcing a cancer promoting state.”

Professor Turkin didn’t hide the apparent shock that I was not a complete moron who zoned out in his class.“Hmm, very well. That is correct. Do be sure to pay attention instead of scribbling nonsense,” he added in distaste.

_Was he serious? I answered his question correctly and I’m still getting reprimanded?_

Professor Turkin turned his attention back to the rest of the class, “Now Robert, can you explain..” I spaced out again, thankful that my humiliation was over.

I really wanted to love this course. Clinical and Molecular aspects of cancer. It was interesting and the material reminded me of why I was pulling myself through school in the first place.

But unfortunately, Professor Turkin has a habit of remembering all of his students. And to my shitty luck, he had no trouble associating me as the girl who hardly showed up to his Metabolism course. And failed.

It wasn’t on purpose. It’s not like I hated his course or anything. I just didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to leave my apartment for anything outside of work. A necessity that would otherwise force me from my living situation.

And with the shame of poor academic performance, I never picked up my exams. I couldn’t handle facing the failure so directly.

That was until Professor Turkin decided to pass out all previous exams to students who didn’t pick theirs up on the last day of class. I had handed in my final exam, and endured the mortifying experience of him handing me my stack of failed tests with his louder than necessary commentary of, “Well I guess I didn’t get to see you this semester” as he laughed and shook his head to my face.

I had bit my tongue. I didn’t explain that I lived in constant torment and anxiety. The fear had formed a barrier between me and the girl I was _before him_. And not even my dreams of medical school were enough to drag me out from the comfort of my bed.

Instead I wordlessly retreated from the building and buried myself in my apartment. I spent the end of that semester crying in my room, as I had every single one since I met _him._

10 minutes later, class was dismissed and I all but ran back to the comfort of my apartment.

……….

Anatomy & Physiology was going to be the death of me. Who decided to fit a two semester course into one semester? _Oh right, the idiots at my university board._

“God, please just kill me so I don’t have to fail my exam tomorrow,” I muttered pathetically into the palms of my hands.

Sighing, I chugged my now forgotten cold brew _(I have this habit of stupidly forgetting to drink it until all the ice melts)_ and swallowed the diluted coffee in distaste. Oh well, caffeine is caffeine!

In retrospect, wearing headphones with blaring music and memorizing anatomical structures were not the best methods to heighten my external awareness.

Hence why I didn’t hear the sound of my window being pushed open.

Or hear the sound of someone throwing themselves into my room.

Not even the grunt of pain had met my ears.

Instead good ole Drowning Pool quite literally drowned out everything that wasn’t related to memorizing thigh muscles.

I had gotten as far as ‘vastus medialis’ when my stomach rumbled and I remembered I hadn’t eaten since this afternoon--which was 7 hours ago.

Standing up, I groaned at the protest of my rigid joints. _Sitting all day reading a text book seemed to do more damage than good,_ I thought in annoyance.

Oh well, time to eat and refill my supply of coffee. I turned around and headed towards the kitchen.

_And nearly jumped out of my skin._

It was at that moment when I saw him. He was wearing a long, dark purple coat and similarly colored suit to match. The grease paint mimicked an unnatural second skin; his eyes looked like two hollow orbs against the black surrounding them, his lips practically coated in what looked like blood against his mouth, and both stood stark against the bone-white covering his face. But most noticeable of all was the knife in his glove covered hands.

Standing in the middle of my bedroom was the Joker.

For a brief moment I wondered if the sleep deprivation and excess caffeine had finally taken their toll and I was just hallucinating.

_More like hoped._

I wasn’t sure how long we stood there staring at each other, but the glint in his eyes caused my stomach to twist unbearably.

“Well hellooo there,” he finally spoke, grinning.

“Uh…” The coffee cup slipped from my trembling grasp and shattered against the hardwood flooring. _I was dead._ I also just sweeped my floors this morning and I really liked that mug.

Needless to say, today really sucked.

“Hmm. I seem to have that...uh, effect on people,” he drawled before throwing his head back and cackling. The sound practically made my skin crawl, and I desperately tried to regulate my breathing.

“That was my favorite mug”, I muttered.

Am I going to die? Yes. Am I still going to mourn the loss of my cute ghost mug? _You bet I am._

The Joker perked an eyebrow in interest, still glancing at me with a mixed look that resembled danger and amusement.

“Was it _sen-ti-men-tilll_?” he inquired, the smile on his face somehow becoming more sinister as he spoke.

I swallowed. “No, I just like ghosts,” I replied in a casualty that shocked even me.

The Joker’s bone-chilling laughter did little to ease my current state. “Well doll, you’re in luck. You just might become one in a few minutes,” he responded with a wink.

He stepped towards me then, the knife in his hands gleamed with his movements, causing me to flinch.

“Now, now...don’t be nervous,” he chided in delight as he continued his advancements.

“Easy for you to say,” I responded without thinking. The Joker made no verbal response, but the predatory flicker in his eyes seemed to widen.

We continued in our liquid slink, each step he inched closer towards me I met with a step back. I felt the back of my thighs hit my table, and I knew then he had me cornered.

Close. _He was too close._

I couldn’t breathe. The anxiety was overwhelming and I began to shake uncontrollably.

I wasn’t ready to die, especially not like this. My earlier proclamation of “death over exam” seemed to be taunting the thin string of life I hardly clung to. _Maybe it will finally all end,_ a small voice chimed in my head.

We were only separated by a few inches now. The Joker stood in front of me holding the knife as it reflected against the dim light from my lamp and laptop. I gripped the table in a pathetic attempt to prevent the shivers his probing orbs invoked from me. The knife twirled between his gloved fingertips as he patiently stared at me.

I realized then he was giving me an unobstructed view of the cause of my soon to-be end of life.

My eyes absorbed the patchiness of the grease-paint in full view as my nostrils were greeted with the scent of gasoline and gunpowder. The jagged outline of his scars stood morbidly against his mangled lips. His tongue grazed the ruined flesh in such a fluid fashion I couldn’t help but think of a serpent. It seemed fitting. Afterall, he trapped me in his vice and was willing to strike at any moment. Staring into the Joker’s bottomless eyes, I vaguely recalled the story of Lucifer disguising himself as a snake.

But I’d met my devil before. I wasn’t sure what to make of this.

With a horrifying realization, I found myself tracing the outline of lips beneath the scars. A coil of warmth jolted in the back of my spine, and my emotions were thrown in a whirlwind. The proximity reminded me of the last time I had let a man this close to me, and I urged the nausea away.

The minutes dragged on as I realized he still made no movements to kill me. Instead the Joker continued to gaze at me intently, as though he was reading my inner-turmoil like an open-book. He could have easily closed the distance, pressed himself against me as he decided to do _god knows what._

I could only pray he would end my life quickly and put me out of my misery.

But he didn’t.

My personal space wasn’t completely invaded, and the Joker remained still. Accessing me with the limited space between us-- _as though he knew._ Somehow completely aware of how desperately I needed the fraction of personal space he had given me.

It made me wonder if **_He_** knew when he assaulted me.

 _This isn’t **him.** _I knew what the glint of someone willing to act without consent was, _I’d stared at it when he took away mine._ And somewhere deep in the depths of this mad man’s pupil’s, I couldn’t see it. I really was broken because the realization made me relax considerably. As much as I didn’t want to die, there was comfort in knowing that was the only harm the Joker would do to me.

I was enthralled in the unspoken intensity between us that Joker’s words hit me like a bucket of cold water.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, in steady calmness that unnerved me. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Because I can’t quite tell,” he continued, sucking in his scars as he observed me. The pain in my chest became overwhelming, a clenching sensation reminding me of everything I painfully urged away.

Unable to handle it, I glanced down away from his piercing stare. It felt too real, staring at the sadistic eyes that somehow reflected the worst trauma I endured.

My gaze fell to the Joker’s grimy shoes.

“Listen, kill me if you need to, but the least you could do is take off your damn shoes. I didn’t clean for nothing!” I reprimanded without thinking. Immediately my stomach twisted in regret. If I wanted to stay alive, I wasn’t making my case well. This man has no sense of empathy….and I really had to decide to yell at him about dirty shoes??

Maybe I did want to die.

The Joker appeared taken aback for a moment, but then his scarred mouth broke into a wide, terrifying smile.

“Ahh, there’s a kitty-cat,” he growled in approval. I tried to ignore the warm flush the seductive growl in his voice inflicted on my body. _I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel that way again._

“What’s ya name, beautiful?”

It took me a moment to register his words, my head still spinning from the adrenaline of his proximity.

“Elena,” I replied after finding my voice again. “What’s yours?”

The menacing nature of his stare contrasted heavily with the jocularity in his expression. “You know who I am, doll.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I replied, once again without thought.

And of course, _because it’s me,_ my stomach decided to grumble again. But this time much more obnoxious than before. The Joker raised his eyebrows as he glanced between my stomach and my face. _Well this is embarrassing._

“I...uh...do you want to eat dinner with me?” I asked without thinking. The Joker stared at me in what was probably the closest thing to shock he was capable of forming.

“I made lasagna and garlic bread,” I clarified as though it made the situation make more sense. Because nothing I could possibly say would help prove the existence of the small shred of sanity I possessed at this very moment.

“Hmm,” he hummed peering down at me. For some reason the deep sound sent a shiver down my spine--but it wasn’t out of fear and that alone scared me. “Outwitting the cops and running from these mobsters does build up my _appe-tite,_ ” he spoke slowly, licking his lips as his dark orbs bore into my brown ones. _I had a dreadful feeling he was referring to more than food._ “Don’t mind if I do.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, “Don’t you mean outwitting these mobsters and running from the cops?”

He waved his gloved hand, the one holding the knife, and made a look of distaste, “They’re practically the same thing,” he grumbled.

I watched in relief as he pocketed the knife.

He stepped away from me then, allowing me to move past him and into the kitchen. The sound of his footsteps following behind me were barely audible, and I glanced back in shock to see he had actually taken off his shoes.

Who knew the crime-lord of Gotham had manners? _Ya right, more like get on my good side and kill me when I don’t expect it._

Wordlessly I pulled out two plates and filled each with the leftovers I made earlier. I wasn’t sure how much the Joker wanted, so I placed double the portion on his plate and left the container out in case he was still hungry.

The sound of the microwave filled the hostile silence. I stared in disbelief as the Joker sat on the cream leather chair of my dining table.

This has to be a dream. _Nightmare_ \--I wasn’t sure.

I pinched my arm.

Nope he’s still there.

The beeping of the microwave broke me out of my internalized hysteria.

Grabbing the plates, I set his portion on the table. “Nice socks,” I said aloud without meaning to. They were checkered in yellow, green, and purple. An interesting color scheme for a mass-murderer.

_I really can’t keep my mouth shut...Christ._

The Joker regarded me with curious eyes before breaking into another devilish grin. “Careful with the compliments dollface, you’re going to make me blush,” he chuckled darkly.

My cheeks flushed again as I realized this was the closest to normal conversation with a man I’d had in awhile.

“Do you...uh...want something to drink?” I asked. _Damn my parents and the hospitality they ingrained in me._

“Whatcha offering?” he spoke slowly, gaze burning into my skin.

I found myself shrinking away in fear, unable to handle the implications behind his devouring stare.

“I have soda, water….wine?” I squeaked.

The Joker shrugged nonchalantly, the tension immediately fading as he began to pick at his food.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, doll. After all, nice of you to treat me to dinner on such short no- _tice_.”

The taunt flared goosebumps across my skin, but I managed a nod and grabbed two pepsi cans from the fridge.

I watched in anticipation as he took a bite. Biting my lip I asked, “Do you like it?”

The Joker swallowed and glanced at me. I ignored the involuntary electricity that flowed through my blood from his invasive observance.

“It’s delicious, _kitty-kat_ ,” he purred with more seriousness than I expected.

At this pointed I probably mimicked a tomato, but I managed a nod. Picking at my plate, I swallowed a fork-full before the queasiness set-in.

“Why aren’t you eating?” the Joker asked, mouth full of pasta.

“I’m not really hungry,” I responded quietly. Loss of appetite was something I was used to by now.

The Joker stilled and stared at me.

For a long while he sat immobile, peering at me with an unspoken demand.

I sat in shock before it dawned on me what he wanted. I began eating more of my lasagna, and it was then the Joker resumed his meal.

And with that, we ate the rest of our food in silence.

Of all things, having dinner with the Joker was hands down the weirdest experience I’d ever had in my life. I finished my plate early, and watched curiously as the Joker finished off my leftovers.

For a moment I wondered how often he went hungry, and a pang of concern hit my gut.

 _He’s a criminal, he’s stealing food!_ My internal voice chimed again.

But my empathy didn’t faze. I had my piece of mind and virginity stolen from me, but not my empathy. If _HE_ couldn’t take away my overly compassionate nature, then there was no way a serial killer clown could.

“So...why exactly did you break into my apartment? You know...out of all the other ones.” I asked, taking a sip from my soda.

The Joker glimpsed at me, tilting his head slightly, before shrugging. “Do I look like a guy with a plan? I just do things. Follow an unmarked path. And your little bedroom ended up along the way,” he explained, eyes gauging my reaction with a mischievous glint.

“Consider it a pit stop then,” I muttered.

_I needed to stop pushing my luck._

The Joker’s chest rumbled as his hyena laughter filled my tiny kitchen. “Pit-stop? Ha-ha, haven’t heard that one before. You sure know how to get on my goodside,” he hummed.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but I forced my unfiltered mouth shut. Surprisingly, and probably concerningly, it felt...almost nice having company over. The loneliness of trauma-related isolation wasn’t exactly forgiving.

The sound of beeping caused me to jump in my seat. Joker snickered before pulling out a disposable cell phone. “Shh, kitty,” he cooed.

The image of the Joker even holding a cellphone seemed odd, but I didn’t question it.

“Well, I’d say that’s my cue, princess. Sorry to cut our.. _.dinner da-te_ short, but I’ve got other business to attend to.”

“Oh, you’re leaving?” I despairingly urged the involuntary pang of disappointment away.

He’s a mass murdering clown who broke into my apartment….and I’m disappointed he’s leaving? Have I lost my mind?

 _Yes you have!_ Chimed the annoying voice of reason in my brain.

“I know, I can’t believe it either, cupcake,” he groaned in mock sadness.

The rational side of my brain began to question if this was the moment he decided to finally kill me.

If that was the case, the Joker made no indication. Instead he slunk his way back towards my bedroom.

Apprehensive I followed behind, still fighting off the mix of relief and sadness at his sudden departure.

I watched in silence as he slipped on his loafers. _For a guy with no real mind to normalcy or fashion, he sure does like fancy shoes and suits._

The Joker slipped a leg over the ledge of my window-sill when he turned to me.

“Well, my kitty-kat, till next time. Any farewell wishes?” he grinned.

Again without thinking I muttered, “Next time use the front door.”

The Joker’s snickering did little to reassure the small shred of hope he wouldn’t climb back into my room and kill me.

“You’re a hoot, kitten. I’ll be seeing you again real soon.”

And with that, I watched as he slipped down the blanacy and faded into the darkness of the street.

_How the hell was I supposed to study now?_


	2. Mr Sandman, I need a fix

It had been a dream.

Lack of proper sleep, nutrition, and poor stress management all chalked up to the fact my overactive imagination went on autopilot last night.

The likelihood that the Joker, _a fucking mass murdering psychopath_ , broke into my apartment--didn’t kill me, ate dinner with me, _AND_ left me unharmed?

**There was no way.**

And that was all exactly why after this dreadful exam, I was going to take a big nap and regain the small shred of sanity I had.

Walking through the rusted and worn-down hallways of the biology building did little to ease the knots in my stomach, and before I knew it, thoughts of the Joker were replaced with the impending doom of facing my dreaded exam.

……..

Surprisingly, the exam didn’t go as bad as I thought.

I finished much faster than I anticipated. My newfound confidence decided it was time to reward myself with a caramel latte and new change of studying scenery.

There was a cute corner cafe two blocks from campus, a cute little place I seldom visited since my isolation. I had become a hermit after all. But who could blame me? Any attempts of going back to normal were met with violating triggers and harassment.

Yet the joyous high from the exam made me feel comfortable- _-lighter_ , a feeling I rarely encountered anymore.

The walk to the coffee shop was only 10 minutes but felt the unsettling doubt creep under my skin.

 _What if he was watching me again?_ Logic vetoed the thought. He was in a different city, in a different state, far away from Gotham. And realistically it wasn’t like I had a reason to fear running into him. He didn’t assault me in public-- ** _no._** He made sure it was when we were alone, _after I invited him,_ where no one could hear me.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. I had been so damn stupid._

I debated texting Faith, one of the few close friends that stayed in my life after everything, knowing her protective nature soothed my nerves. I opened my phone and frowned seeing the time.

 _12:38pm_. Fuck, Faith has class until 2:15pm.

“Why do our schedules never align?” I grumbled to myself.

“Hey, Elena!”, an unfamiliar voice called behind me. Startled, I looked over to the sight of a boy from my Anatomy & Physiology course-- _Anthony I think?_

“Oh, er, hey,” I replied meekly, unsure of why he was talking to me. Admittedly he was cute. A little nerdy but he had a pretty-boy vibe going for him. The type that those sophisticated eye-glass models wore in the posters I remember seeing outside the eye doctor’s office my mom went to.

“What did you think of that exam? I feel like Professor Carmen is making them harder each time,” he spoke casually. As though this wasn’t the first time we’d spoken to each other.

“Uhh..” I fidgeted slightly, still reeling from the shock someone I barely knew was going out of their way to talk to me. “I mean, I thought it was pretty easy. Guess staying up late to study helped.”

“Wow, you thought the exam was easy? Actually I’m not surprised, you’re probably the smartest person in our class,” he whistled in awe.

I froze.

This kid must have had me mistaken for someone else. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying to decide how to break the news to him.

“Er...I think you’re confused, I’m not exactly the smartest person in our class,” I mumbled.

Pretty boy didn't seem fazed. He chuckled and shook his head, “Very humble of you to say. But we both know you’re the only one in the class who answers Professor Carmen’s questions correctly every single time. That’s pretty impressive if you ask me.”

I blinked, staring at him in confusion. I didn’t even realize I did that.

_Huh, I guess I wasn’t a lost cause after all._

“Uh, well I don’t see how answering questions makes me smart. They’re mostly from the chapter readings he assigns,” I answered shrugging.

“Weren’t you the one who scored a 97% on the last exam?” he inquired as I carefully avoided tripping on the broken pavement.

_Screw you Gotham and your shitty waste of tax money!_

“Umm,” I blanked, unsure of how that seemed to be common knowledge. “Yeah, I did.”

Pretty Boy beamed. “See! I knew you were an Einstein in the making. No need to be so shy about it,” he said smiling, and I couldn’t help smiling back.

A beeping noise broke the contentedness of the moment. Pretty Boy glanced at his watch, eyebrows shooting up.

“Hey, I gotta run to my next class, but do you want to grab coffee sometime? We can study together. Maybe you can pass some of your genius onto me.”

I blinked again. Twice.

“Umm…” I said, trying to quench the violent clash between my adrenaline and confusion. I had read about this scenario a couple times, but never experienced it directly. “Sure, I guess.”

Pretty Boy grinned, “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow in class and we can talk again then.”

I found myself nodding, “Yeah, works for me.”

And with that, Pretty Boy walked away and I was left standing in a daze.

I didn’t feel threatened by him. Not even remotely. Which meant two things for me: 1) I was finally starting to move on _(questionable)_ , and 2) I am an idiot who agreed expending the small fragment of energy I possessed with my peer.

Still, I felt tolerant amusement and surprisingly the nervousness wasn’t overwhelming. Deciding to ride out the contentedness, I walked briskly into the coffee shop, and found myself in a much better mood than when I woke up this morning.

…..

The lapse of peace was short-lived upon seeing Maria, the girl _he_ dated before me, sitting at a nearby table with her friends.

I had no ill-will towards her, but I couldn’t talk to her. Facing her just brought up the repressed emotions of how isolated _he_ had made me.

I remembered when I managed to get a grip of myself. The small fragment of a courageous backbone I possessed made me reach out to her on social media. Asking her if she wanted to talk and mentioning how he abused me.

Her response was...decent. _Polite._ Offered to text me and hear my story.

But she never understood. Clarifying she wouldn’t _“talk shit about him”_ because she had no reason to.

Because he didn’t abuse her the way he abused ** _me_**. I guess he didn’t feel that _she_ deserved it.

He dated her for 3 years before me. He still cheated, something she verbalized to anyone that listened--not that I blamed her. But she made peace with him. He didn’t violate her, he didn’t criticize or humiliate her when she was at her weakest.

Somehow, I earned all of his hatred, and I pathetically urged all the negative distortions against myself that came with that thought.

As grateful as I was she never had to endure the torture he inflicted upon me, I couldn’t help the unbearable realization that I truly was alone in my torment.

It would have been fine if she wasn’t on good terms with him. If she hadn’t gone straight to him with all the repressed pain I spoke to her in confidence.

And of course, _because he never abused her,_ she believed ** _him._**

The sound of Maria’s laughter made me jump in my seat. Turning to face their direction, my blood turned cold as I watched her and her friends staring at me.

I didn’t need to hear the whispers to know what they were saying:

_There’s the liar. She doesn’t know him how I knew him. She’s crazy just like he said._

Black dots invaded my line of sight, the lightheadedness became overwhelming as I frantically threw my notebooks into my backpack and ran out of the coffee shop.

…...

I haven't dreamt in a longtime. Sleep had evolved into a bottomless haven of nothingness, serving as a temporary escape to the harsh realities beyond the false comfort of my unconsciousness.

I dreamt I was in a cramped room, with no windows or doorway, and the walls were closing in on me. I could feel the weight of them pressing into me, pushing me more firmly back against the floor. The heaviness on my chest was building intolerably, and without warning the blank canvas of the wall morphed into piercing black eyes.

 ** _His_** eyes. The walls were replaced with abrasive hands, violating my skin and shoving away my attempts to escape.

I awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for air as my heart pounded painfully against my ribcage. The pressure was suffocating, and I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Sitting up in my bed, I felt the cool breeze of the night air enter my room.

_Wait._

I had made sure the window was locked before I went to bed.

Frantically I turned on my nightstand lamp, fully expecting the view of my empty bedroom.

The image of the Joker sitting on my desk chair, watching me across my bedroom was _definitely not what I expected._

My eyes focused, and I blinked slowly, not believing what I was seeing. The horrifying realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I choked on the scream rising in my throat.

He looked the same as last time, although his coat now laid against the back of the chair he currently occupied. Without the extra layers of clothing, I could see the outline of his broad shoulders, my eyes widening as I traced the protruding veins in his forearms. As lean as he looked, it was obvious the Joker had considerable muscle on him. I guess fighting and running away from the Batman must be a great workout.

My eyes made it as far as his chest before I stopped myself, halting the intrusive thoughts of _‘I wonder how much muscle he has under those clothes’._ I didn’t want to think about what that could possibly mean.

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked, the steadiness in my voice wavering.

“I’m….not quite...sure.” He stood, moving towards the front of my bed, eyes scanning my room as he did. “I don’t exactly plan these things,” he spoke with a vexatious glint in his eyes.

My mouth felt very dry as I sat immobile and unable to think of any way out of this.

“What? No…” _Honey I missed you?”_...hmm? And here I was excited to see you,” he teased, lickning his scars and tilting his head to stare at me.

“Why did you come back?” I squeaked, becoming acutely aware of the not so orhtodox tank top and booty shorts I was wearing. I pulled the covers closer over my trembling form.

“Oh ya know, was in the area and thought... _why not drop by_?” he said casually, as though he was an old friend visiting.

But he wasn’t an old friend. This was Gotham and the Batman’s nemesis. And for whatever god forsaken reason the embodiment of chaos stood right in front of me as if we were reuniting acquaintances.

_Breathe._

But I couldn’t. The tightness in my chest radiated a burning sensation throughout my body, becoming painfully unendurable by my decreasing oxygen supply. The panic attack escalated until I couldn’t contain myself anymore.

I screamed as loud as I could.

The next set of actions all happened so fast. The Joker’s dark form suddenly swept towards me, triggering the fight or flight instinct in full force. I attempted to run but the dread worsened when my legs got tangled beneath the flimsy bed sheets, and I felt the Joker press his weight on top of mine.

A warm hand covered my mouth and nose, effectively cutting off my pleas for help.

His body completely enclosed mine. He wasn’t much wider than me, but I could feel the muscle mass through his crisp dress shirt, the way his body heat seeped through our clothes and onto my skin. I squirmed beneath his unrelenting grasp, my blood curling as I sensed the steeliness of his torso and legs. _Strong._ He was rigid and powerful, much stronger than me, pressing me deeper against the mattress, and the realization all but threw me further into the nightmare I endured 2 years ago in my first dorm.

Too close. Too much.

I shuddered as the Joker slowly repositioned himself above me, his palm removing itself from my mouth so I could breathe again. I trembled as I felt his breath tickle my earlobe, “Shh, shh. I’m not here to play, _kitty-kat_.”

I thrashed beneath him, fully aware my pathetic attempts to escape his grasp was futile, unable to control the terror running through my body.

Too close. _Too familiar._

“Please stop,” I choked, a sob escaping my throat. I closed my eyes in a useless attempt to hinder the invasive memories I desperately wished I could will away.

Unexpectedly the Joker shifted his weight, allowing me a few inches of separation. The grip on my wrist loosened, not enough to be free, but enough that he wasn’t completely engulfing my body anymore.

There was a long silence before I eventually opened my eyes and stared back at the hollow gaze reflected back at me.

“What was his name?”

My breath hitched as the pain in my chest began to throb.

“How do you know…” I whispered, the hoarseness in my voice felt like gravel in my throat.

The Joker smiled, for the first time his demeanor embodied a serenity I wasn’t even capable of forming anymore. “You’re more transparent than you think. Everyone is,” he answered simply , a flicker of excitement flashing through his darkened gaze.

I felt the bile rise in my throat, but I swallowed it away. “What gives it away?” I asked meekly, but I knew the answer. I was practically a walking, living corpse.

The Joker hummed in mock thought. “I see everything and everyone….for how….they truly **_are_** ,” he concluded, peering down at me as though he’d just solved life’s conundrum.

“And I see **you.** ”

The statement sent shivers down my spine, somehow making me feel naked underneath his gaze despite the clothing. I almost flinched when I felt his warm fingertips brush a lock of my hair away from my face. “And the person you _oh-so desperately_ wish to be.”

His smile grew then, and after an uncomfortable amount of time, I tore my gaze away.

Too close. _Too real._

The Joker made a sound of curiosity, his stare burning my skin from my peripheral vision.

“So... _where_ is that girl?” he asked, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn't rhetorical.

“What do you mean?” I whispered, so inaudible I wondered if he even heard me

The Joker made an exasperated sigh, as though I was an absolute idiot and he was forced to re-explain a concept for the millionth time. “The girl you want to be, dollface. Where is she?”

I furrowed my brows, confused and unable to formulate a coherent response to his ominous questions.

He hummed, mimicking someone deep in thought as he sucked in his scars. “Or have you given up on trying to find her?”

The weight of his words triggered something inside me--the grief of something I couldn’t place.

“Honestly I thought I would be dead by now,” the words left my mouth before I registered them.

The potent silence that followed was suffocating, surrounding me and holding me still beneath him. I watched motionless as the Joker ran his tongue along his ruined mouth.

“Why didn’t you end your misery?” He asked, the bluntness of his tone catching me off guard.

“I don’t know,” I answered numbly. The intensity of the Joker’s amber eyes was intrusive but not frightful, and I swallowed as I gazed back into them.

“I don’t want to die...I just want the pain to stop.”

 _I want to go back to who I was before._ But I didn’t allow the words to slip. Not like he would care to hear about what I wanted--no one did.

I had tried so hard not to let _him_ steal my life away from me, but even that felt like a lie. What life was I living if I dragged every day out in the empty shell of the person that was left of me?

“Can’t call it living if you’re dead inside, sweet- _cheeks_ ,” his deep voice rumbled, echoing my thoughts. There was no amusement or sarcasm in his tone, and I stared back into the sunken eyes that seemed to **_see_** everything.

 _You’re one to talk,_ I thought bitterly. But I held my tongue. He was volatile and completely unpredictable. I decided it was best not to push my luck.

“You know…” he began, leaning back slightly. “I liked the girl that talked back to me. Most people they get, uh, intimidated by me...can you believe it? Must be because I’m so darn handsome!”

He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis and I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent the involuntary smile threatening to break across my lips.

“And when they do well...That’s. Just. No. Fun.” My eyes widened as I felt the cool blade of the pocket-knife against my shoulder blade. _When did he pull that out?_ “Where did your _hos-pi-tal-ity_ go, huh?”

Annoyance replaced my terror. This bastard broke into my home, made me relive the worst memories of my life, _and was now going to question my hospitality?_

“Well it’s not exactly easy to be a good host when I’m being held hostage by an intruding guest,” I barked. “Where did **_your_** manners go, _huh_?”

My unfiltered mouth was on autopilot but I didn’t care. At this point, I knew he came back to finish the job, there was no point in begging for my life. I already learned the hard way it did nothing to help.

A slow grin graced his mangled lips. “There she is,” he purred, beaming with excitement, pocketing the knife away from my delicate skin.

My temper flared, he was taunting me and I had enough. “Is that what you want? Someone who fights back?” I growled in frustration. My adrenaline flared up as I felt the rage practically flooded my veins. A pulsing heat tingled beneath my skin as his weight became all too encompassingly familiar, and suddenly the claustrophobia kicked in.

I writhed violently against the Joker’s grasp, trying to position my knee to a particularly sensitive spot of his autonomy. I heard him grunt above me before pressing his body more firmly to mine, effectively stilling my movements.

“Hey, hey. Stop that,” his soft voice warned above me. A rough hand slid against my face, cradling it almost tenderly. “Contrary to what they say about me, I don’t like unwilling women.”

The reassurance did little to soothe the tremors running through my quivering form, but the tightness in my chest loosened considerably.

“You have my word on that, kitty-kat.” He breathed into my ear. “And I always keep my **_word_**.”

The Joker pulled back to assess me, a glint of amusement lingering in his amber gaze. “If I let you up, will you give me your word you won’t try to scream again?”

Unable to formulate a verbal response, I managed a nod.

The Joker rolled his eyes, pressing more firmly against me, “I said I need your _word_.”

“Yes,” I grit out, glaring back into the soulless eyes above me.

“Feisty,” he said in a deep voice, and I found myself in the unexplainable torment of urging away the involuntary excitement the sound stirred in my navel.

He moved off me then, allowing me to push myself up and press my back against the headboard in an attempt to maximize the limited distance between us.

For a brief moment, everything was silent. I wondered what was going on in his chaotic head, but the rational side of my brain told me I didn’t want to know.

I watched him cautiously, vaguely surprised at the casual demeanor he possessed sitting on my bed. As if the tension never existed and we were two friends having a sleepover. _HA!_ Although the Joker did seem like the type of guy who wouldn’t mind doing their hair and painting nails.

My eyes lingered along his form, and to my relief found no identifying threats. A colorful blend of cotton on his feet made me remember something.

“You took off your shoes,” I spoke aloud, slightly bewildered.

The Joker chuckled, leaning back and propping himself against his elbows as he gazed at me. “ _Seee_ cupcake, I do have manners.” The smug arrogance in his tone was unnerving but I refused to comment on it.

I bit my lip to hide the small smile on my lips, and said nothing. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now, and unfortunately there was no reliability with my uninvited guest.

“You never told me his name,” the Joker said, as if he remembered it suddenly and couldn’t withhold the thought any longer.

The pressure in my chest returned. It dug deeper into my skin, building a concave hole that I was almost terrified it’d swallow me alive. I hugged my knees together in a desperate attempt at comfort.

“I don’t like saying his name,” the hollow sound of my voice replied.

A smacking sound filled the room as the Joker sucked in his scars, his face completely void of the previous humor it possessed.

He sat up suddenly, still giving me room but now eye-level. “You see...that’s your problem. You give him too much power.”

Anger spiked in my blood.

“He took mine away,” I growled without restraint. My eyes blurred with frustrated tears, but I refused to say more. Of all people, this manic clown wasn’t going to understand or even have the capability to sympathize. After all, he stole power from everyone around him fo _r fun._

The Joker licked his scars, a smirk gracing his lips and I saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes practically screaming _‘I hear your thoughts, kitten’._

“So, take it back,” he stated simply, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“I can’t take back what he stole from me,” I whispered harshly. _Not my virginity. Not my peace of mind. Not the past two years he drained out of me._

A clicking noise grated my nerves as the Joker pressed his tongue along the roof of his mouth. “Hmm..that’s not very _op-ti-mis-tic_ of you, now is it, princess?” he hummed.

“I’m not you!” I seethed, unable to contain myself. “Unlike you I don’t even have the muscle mass to open a jar, let alone defend myself! I’m not strong enough to protect myself. I can’t harm or kill everyone that hurts me.”

“Who says you can’t?” He quipped, seemingly indifferent to my outbursts. “Killing is easy, criminals do it every day.”

He chuckled suddenly, as if remembering a joke. “I would know,” he said, winking.

My head began to throb from frustration. _Did he know how annoying he was? Was he just doing this to piss me off?_

“Because it’s wrong. It won’t make me any different than him,” I groaned impatiently.

“No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong,” he huffed with an annoyed sigh. “You know what I noticed?” he asked, suddenly crawling closer to me. Two hands placed on the bedding next to my thighs, and I felt my back press further against the headboard as far as it would allow. “Everyone wants to do the right thing...but yet...no one does, do they, cupcake?”

Dumbstruck, I shook my head, unsure of how to respond. “What are you talking about?”

The Joker rolled his eyes in a similar fashion a parent would when reprimanding their child. “Did the police do the right thing when you tried to report what happened?”

My breathing stopped.

“Did your campus security do the right thing when you told them you were being stalked?” he continued, oblivious to the stabbing sensation I felt in my gut.

“Mmm..did your teachers do the right thing when their star student suddenly started skipping class.. _.hmm_?” he pressed, his breath tickling my cheeks.

The Joker’s words practically grabbed at my throat, slowly suffocating me with each syllable. _How the hell did he know?_

He tilted his head then, gazing at me with an almost sympathetic look. “Not even your friends know the truth do they? Mmm...could it be because they wouldn’t believe you.. _.not really_ believe you?”

Aghast, I tried to say something-- _needed to say something_ , and opened my mouth but no words came out. Instead I looked like a gaping fish out of water, and my lungs burned from the lack of oxygen.

The Joker lifted a callous hand slowly, closing my slack jaw and stroking my cheek with his thumb. His eyes gleamed from the reflection of my lamp, and I found myself lost in the dark orbs that seemed to absorb everything and give away nothing.

“No, none of them did the right thing,” he answered for me. “You see, cupcake, there is no morality in this world because everyone’s predictable. Even when given the opportunity to do the so-called _‘right thing’,_ they never do.”

Blood pounded through my ears, and a buzzing sound filled my head. The feeling of the Joker’s warm palm was the only thing grounding me in place, preventing me from floating away into the emptiness inside my chest.

“How do you know all of that?” I finally asked, my vocal cords constricting painfully as I did.

The Joker gave a lazy grin, “Like I said cupcake, I see **_everything_**. Everyone is so easy to read, and you’re no different.”

The last comment stung, and I swallowed away the dismissive implication behind his words.

“Everyone but you, apparently,” I said, thankful I was able to breathe again.

His smile grew wider then, and he nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”

“It still doesn’t change anything,” I said firmly. “Even if I somehow was able to hurt him, it wouldn’t be right. I’d become what he wants me to be.”

The Joker shook his head, seemingly disappointed by my declaration. “And yet...you sit here, giving him exactly what he wants. A broken girl that can’t live a day without thinking about him.”

My anger flared again. Who did he think he was saying all of this to me? Even if he somehow was a mind-reader, which didn’t seem entirely unrealistic at this point, he _didn’t know anything._ The Joker was right about one thing, no one knew what I went through and that included himself.

“Killing him would mean killing the only shred of myself I have left. And you’re wrong! Not everyone is as heartless as you. I don’t care if no one else has morals,I still do!” I yelled without restraint.

I watched in horror as the Joker’s nonchalant demeanor quickly shifted to rage, and without warning his hands grabbed my shoulders and shoved me against the bed frame.

Hot breath ghosted over my nose and cheeks, tickling the skin. “You know, for someone with very little ability to defend herself...you sure got a lot of nerve,” he hissed, and I recognized the feeling of the switchblade as it pressed against my neck.

Tears trickled down my face, blurring my vision while I stared into the blackened eyes before me. “And for a clown you’re terrible with jokes,” I retorted venomously.

My fragile existence was quite literally between the palms of Gotham’s madman, but somehow I couldn’t find the energy to care. I didn’t want to die, but I had promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t beg and cower away again.

The tip of the knife pressed into my skin, breaking the top layers and marking my flesh. My eyes widened frantically but I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

“Do it,” I whispered. “Kill me.”

For an unprecedented amount of time, the Joker stared back at me, his gaze no longer angry--almost understanding. There was another emotion lingering beneath the surface, but I couldn’t pinpoint it.

Almost as quickly as it occured, it ended. The switchblade left my skin, and the Joker leaned back grinning.

“Sorry sweetheart, I don’t do favors,” he smirked, the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes.

“Now, I’ll ask you one more time...what’s the name?” the mirth no longer present in his voice.

I swallowed, closing my eyes as if I could will away the moment.

“Raphael. Raphael Routoni,” I said numbly.

The Joker’s stare burned holes through my shaking form, but I refused to open my eyes.

A knock at my front door made me jump, and I glanced at the Joker in shock.

He scrunched his face distastefully, as though he was about to say something and was being rudely interrupted.

“Better go answer that, kitty-kat.”

I stood up but not without the Joker grabbing my wrist. “Make it quick. Or else, I’ll get rid of them for you.” his voice lowered with the threat laced in his words.

Swallowing away the nausea, I nodded and went walked out of my bedroom. I wasn’t expecting company and the reality of having a known killer sitting in my bedroom was not helping. Quickly I wiped my face and prayed I didn’t look as shaken up as I felt.

Opening the door I was greeted with the sight of Mrs. Sarsma, a sweet middle-aged woman who lived on the same floor. I hardly spoke to her, but she knew I lived alone and would drop off extra cookies whenever she baked.

“Uh, hi Mrs. Sarsma, is everything alright?” I asked, praying she couldn’t hear the squeak of nervousness in my voice.

She smiled politely, glancing behind me as though as expected someone else there. “Yes, dearie I’m fine. I just heard yelling and wanted to check up on you in case. You’re usually very quiet,” she said gently, no trace of judgment in her soft spoken tone.

Flushing, I felt my matted hair stick to the back of my neck. “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make noise. I was actually watching a movie, and I guess I didn’t realize the volume was up too high.”

I was a terrible liar but for Mrs. Sarsma’s sake, I hoped she couldn’t detect the dishonesty.

Unfortunately for me, it seemed Mrs. Sarsma was not easily fooled. She narrowed her eyes slightly as she took in my dischleved state. “Is that why you were crying?” she asked, concerned.

I fidgeted, remembering the Joker told me to make this quick and the minutes were ticking by.

“Yeah, I’m a sap and the movie is really sad,” I explained with a pathetic laugh. _Please don’t ask me what movie._

She seemed to accept that answer and nodded, but the worry in her face didn’t fade. “Well alright, honey. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to stop by, okay? Alex and I would have to have you over for dinner sometime,” she said kindly, and for a moment I wanted to give her a hug.

“Thank you, Mrs. Sarsma. I’d really like that,” I replied honestly. _If I live that long_ , the rational side of my brain commented.

She smiled one last time, before excusing herself and walking back into her apartment. I let out a breath of relief before shutting the door, thankful my sweet neighbor was unharmed.

“Hmm. And here I thought you were my dinner date, kitten,” a voice taunted behind me.

I turned back to face the gloating expression plastered on the Joker’s face. _Asshole._

He must have seen my irritation because he chuckled, tapping his index finger against my nose.

“Don’t worry, doll. I suppose I can share you for a night,” he smirked, peering down at me like I was some cute little puppy.

“Leave,” I hissed, not bothering to conceal the venom in my voice. “You need to leave now.”

The Joker sighed dramatically, waving his unmanicured hands as if to physically brush away my anger. _Did he ever groom himself?_

“And here I thought we were making progress,” he huffed in mock indignation. “There you go with your lack of being a proper host.”

“I’m not hosting,” I countered furiously. “Now leave.”

The Joker practically beamed, staring at me with a look of unburnished admiration. “I like you this way,” his deep voice rumbled. The hairs stood on my skin when I realized the sound sent a swelling warmth straight to my core.

“What?’ I croaked, cheeks inflamed from his sensual stare.

“Unafraid,” he responded. “It looks good on you.”

Before I could formulate a response, he turned abruptly and headed back into my bedroom. I watched in silence as he walked away, unsure of what to make of the multitude of sentiments swirling in my brain.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there swimming in my thoughts, but the sound of the window being shut forced me out of my daze. When I headed back to my bedroom, the Joker was already gone.

_So much for sleep deprivation_ , I thought bitterly.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, I'd love to hear from you <3


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